When Husbands Are Sick.

My husband has a little cold right now.

I have had the same little cold for three days and just want to give my immune system some public recognition for keeping me far from the coma said husband appears to be approaching.

Last night, he told me his throat was a little sore and immediately started CHUGGING orange juice. Honestly, it was like the Florida Citrus Association was doing a product integration in my kitchen. I looked behind me for cameras or at least a stranger with an iPhone but only saw my 2 year old screaming for his fair share of the OJ.

This evening, at least two hours before bedimte, he told me he was incredibly exhausted and couldn't wait to hit the sack. His statement combined with my day of saying no to cookies and cheesepuffs as meal substitutes, hit in a way that doesn't warrant a timeout but isn't nice, and unsuccessfully convincing someone to put on their damn pants enervated me to incapacitation. I shoveled my microwaved rice into my mouth and pretended not to hear.

This evening, 15 minutes before bedtime, while I was literally sucking the tiny bit of energy left in my body into a Medela bottle, my husband popped a Dayquil and muttered to himself, "Just make it through [bedtime]."  I didn't need to look for the Dayquil Brand Team behind him. They were not proud of this product placement.

And now, my husband is sleeping on the couch. Before he dozed off he said, "You have this cold, but it doesn't seem to affect you."

So, thank you immune system. I don't know how you manage to keep me up and running so well while others with the EXACT SAME affliction are taken out at the knees.

What's that? It's not my immune system? It's a chromosomal thing? X instead of Y? Well, thank you for the X. Without it the world would have ended well before vaccines and wouldn't be here tomorrow.